Gird your loins, people: It's happening again. Over the past 2 years, St. Louis has grown to fear the arrival
of the July 4th weekend, and the madness our ragtag band of misfits unleashes on this scab of a city (Who am I kidding?
They have guns and STDs; they fear nothing). REGARDLESS, the time has come once again to descend upon the
Moldy Butthole of America and celebrate everything that makes this land
great: Alcoholism, awkward sexual tension, and petty vandalism. It's FOURTHSTRAVAGANZA, and you'd better believe
you're coming. Please?

I bet you're all like, "Nathan, it's a gathering of terrible people barfing on things together.
You don't need to sell me on this." Maybe not, but I wouldn't be worth my salt as an ad man
unless you were completely choking on reasons-why.

In many ways, it'll be the same beautiful mess as years past -- we'll still drink regrettable
things, Ducky will continue to say stuff to confuse or alienate us all, I still won't
understand rugby culture -- but there are also welcome changes that'll make this year's FOURTHSTRAVAGANZA
better than ever:

NEW APARTMENT
Rachel and I got a cute new place together, with, you know, room to actually move around and a backyard and multiple
sleeping areas and shit. So, now we can host guests without everyone being crammed in the one tiny room
that has air conditioning. All hotboxing White Castle farts with someone's dirty feet in your face. All sleeping on a pile of rags like a vagrant. I'm not saying
we shouldn't still do these things -- I'm completely in favor of inviting that many more people, so the place is as cramped and
uncomfortable as ever -- I'm just saying, the option is there.

NEW NEIGHBORHOOD
As much as I enjoyed terror-sprinting from my building to my car every morning, it was time to move on. Our new neighborhood is along the alleged
Best Mile in St. Louis,
which is kind of like saying the Best Chromosome in a Downs Syndrome Baby,
but we take what we can get. Instead of abandoned schools and shady beauty parlors, we're now within walking distance of a park, 2 Thai places, 2 Vietnamese places,
a gelato shop, a lesbian bar, a lesbian coffeeshop, some hipster joints, a tapas bar, and a FEDEX/KINKOS. There is a tattoo & piercing
shop/S&M dungeon literally around the corner, in case anyone decides they want to make some Permanent Mistakes.

San Francisco People: I know you don't like leaving your little utopia, but this is the closest Midwestern equivalent, minus a homeless
dude shamelessly taking a dump on the sidewalk in front of you.

Crime Rate in St. Louis, By Neighborhood

Observe how smart it is to visit now... and how very, very
stupid it was before.

NEW CAT
OK, that's not even remotely true. Millie is old as shit. I often compare her to an aging Hollywood starlet -- you can tell she used to be
pretty and charming at one point in her career, but now she's just this scraggly, deranged monster
that constantly yowls for attention and abuses the help. "You never know which end the fluids will fire from" is a little saying I have about
Millie. Don't worry, though -- you'll love her when you're drunk.

UPDATE: Unfortunately, we had to put Millie to sleep before the 4th could roll around... Obviously, this wasn't an easy decision, but as much as we liked the idea of her tearing around the apartment, hassling drunks and grinddancing on Ducky's face while he slept, she was old, and sick, and a dozen cretins stomping around was probably the last thing she needed to experience.

As much as I made fun of her, Millie was a good, cute little cat, and Rachel and I are really gonna miss her... I'm not much one to believe in the existence of an afterlife, but I'm totally willing to bend my own rules if I get to imagine Millie up in Heaven all screeching at Isaac Newton for petsies.

If you want to hear a thoroughly depressing song that gets me weirdly teary about Millie, I am happy to oblige.

PARTY HARD

As this type of event is always destined to gather a certain number of, let's say, unknown quantities, I
sort of hesitate to say, "We'll do this, or we'll definitely go there." I mean, there's always a chance we'll all wind up in jail, and WHOOPS
there goes my carefully organized itinerary.

Instead, I'll just note that this has fast become my favorite time of year, and you know I'm always ready to blow some cash on some
real stupid, half-baked ideas. So, let's just say that certain... things will be made available to attendees:

A male sex doll rigged with hundreds of fireworks - Ideally, it will look like the Borg, except the Borg do not have exploding dicks
(erotic fan fiction notwithstanding).

A children's inflatable pool, and possibly
whatever this is - Also
possibly an inflatable couch, for the late-90's nostaglia? We'll see exactly how little time can pass before each one of them is popped by an
ill-conceived wrestling maneuver.

An Easter Egg Hunt, except the eggs will be filled with bottles of airline booze - Hint: The easier they are to find, the worse the
booze will be (e.g., Blackberry Brandy).

About a dozen flavors of Smirnoff Ice - I was never a huge fan of Andrew "Fitz" Fitzgerald, but he recently introduced me to the idea of aggressively forcing Smirnoff Ice on your friends as a sort of sadistic punishment, and it is my new favorite idea ever.

Did I mention we have a backyard now? - Grilling, crummy plastic lawn chairs, Tiki torches for gladiator battles -- all will be made
available.

What about DJ Roomba? - Not
unless someone wants to make hella donations. I've included a button to that effect. You're welcome.

Like I said, I know better than to dictate an itinerary. I simply thought I'd offer up some of the fabulous venues St. Murder has to offer... along with grave assurances of certain locales we shall never, ever visit.

Descriptions appear in the purple box below, on mouseover. I am an internet GENIUS.

Just in case you weren't completely sold, how about a little reminder of the madness that tends to develop when we congregrate this many ridiculous people and mix with alcohol? Perhaps a visit from The Ghost of FOURTHSTRAVAGANZAs Past is in order?

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That is completely the wrong ghost.

The one that started it all, and truly, the one to beat. Unmatched drunken insanity, including:

Kyle downing like a half gallon of nice whiskey, then barfing it back up outside a lesbian bar, before telling me how he was gonna be a millionaire in roughly six months, and how I would get a cut. NOTE: Still waiting on that last part.

Smacko and I making out. As always, there are no winners in gay chicken. Unless, of course, you are gay. I probably didn't need to use tongue, though.

Alienating the general public by aggressively promoting "St. Louis Cat Clinic" as the next big thing in hip-hop.

Smacko nearly getting thrown into jail because of threatening phone calls made to 1-800-GRANNY8, then making Will cover for him.

Macho Walk Jeff Goldblumapproves as well.

Breaking into the Holiday Inn down the street to use their toilet-sized pool.

Agitator of the Year 2009: Ducky. Between biting Smacko, almost getting into a fight with a pack of Cardinals fans by repeating accusing them of "guzzling cum," extolling -- at length -- the virtues of punching a dude in the kidneys, and then admonishing us for our lack of cultural sensitivity (rugby culture, I mean), the Deuce was the clear victor this year.

Whocouldresist?

All right, folks -- that's my pitch. At this point, I've bombarded you with so much shit that you should probably just resign yourself to attending, because I can't guarantee I'll stop otherwise.

If you still aren't completely sold on the idea of coming to St. Louis for the 4th of July, well, enjoy your independence, you heartless automaton.

If, however, you're ready to make some brilliant mistakes, barf in our washing machine, etc., just get in touch with either me or Rachel, and let us know your plans.

The 2nd - 5th is only a tentative timeframe; if you want to come early or stay late, I'm sure we can accommodate.

If you want to bring your significant other, or other friends, everyone is more than welcome. Well, some more than others.

See you this July!

>:€CTHULHU DEMANDS IT
>:€

If you've visited in years past, you know that it was kind of a pain in the ass hauling around 6+ people. It meant multiple cars, bigger, more expensive cabs, and a lot more organization than our little coterie is generally capable of. And now, considering the Tanry ain't so fine as she once was, I've got a proposition for you all.

If there is enough interest -- and a couple people possibly willing to make a small contribution to the cause -- we're thinking about renting a minivan for the weekend. No, not one of those godless 1000° U-Haul cargo vans they smuggle immigrants with (although we considered it) -- an honest to goodness van van, possibly with DVD players in the headrests. Picture cruising around in soccer mom luxury as we see just how far we can stretch the rental place's insurance policy. "Ramp it?" Oh, yes. If there is anything remotely close to a ramp, it will be ramped.

That's not the real bonus, though. If we can get enough people on-board, there may be the possibility of a SUPER SECRET CELEBRITY DESIGNATED VAN DRIVER signing on for the weekend. I don't want to name names, and I don't want to get your hopes up, but this could be some hot shit.

The sooner I hear from you, the sooner I can book the van and work my persuasive magic on our (theoretical) chauffeur. So don't delay. I've set up another incredibly helpful donation button, just in case.

OK, so I know how it is. You get a party invite on facebook or whatever, and you don't want to seem overeager, so you try to play it all cool and aloof -- maybe mark yourself as a "Maybe," maybe don't reply at all and just show up. UNACCEPTABLE.

There are no maybes with FOURTHSTRAVAGANZA. There is only "Yes" and "Call the Children's Hospital, I'm bleeding."

So, to give your lazy asses a real incentive to respond -- and respond how you know you should -- I make you this promise: If you hit me with a hard "yes" -- yes, I bought a plane ticket; yes, I've hooked myself to a gin IV, to start building up my tolerance -- I will say something good about your junk (figuratively speaking). On the internet.

You know you can't pass this kind of publicity up. Plus, I can't completely promise I won't do the opposite if you were to reply in the negative.

Below, you'll find the titans of industry who have already signed on. Look upon their wondrous faces, their miraculous junk (figuratively speaking). Feel the awe, and the terror. And plot your own ascent to their status.